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I think I've known a few vultures in my time. Nice one, the end mentioning the blood being black not red was very graphic, a good way to end any poem.
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"Hubert Cumberdale, you taste like soot and poo."
"Ooooh, that was a treat for the fingers."
"Do you not like my mouth words?"
"rusty kettle...(scratch scratch)... ooooaaaahhhh"
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